Lucia, The Queen of Light
by Koori Arashi
Summary: The emotion of tradition is a powerful tool... the daughter of a Death Eater follows this path into the Light.


*** I own nothing of Harry Potter and wrote this story in order to try and help myself understand the emotions behind the tradition of Santa Lucia. Enjoy! ***   


**~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~**

** Lucia, Queen of Light  
By KooriArashi**

  


_ She stood on the balcony overlooking the sea of dead white on black. She and her attendants sang to the mockery of Saint Lucia. Centuries ago, the witch had been blinded, stabbed, and then burned alive by crazed muggles, but somehow the Sicilian witch had become a muggle religious patron and symbol of light to many Nordic countries. Lately Voldemort took pleasure out of twisting light traditions into Dark Revels of "vengeance." Tonight blood shed was in the name of Lucia._

Her performance was over. She should be asleep in bed, lulled by the screams of worthy victims. The girl shuddered. Not that anyone sane would be able to do so…. 

Peeking around corners and dashing along open hallways, she avoided human, ghost, and portrait alike. Gowned in patchwork black and gray robes she crept down the stairs, slinking along the walls, hidden among the shadows. Watching. Wary. It wouldn't do to be caught before the night had even begun.

At the dead end corridor, she ducked behind the standing armor and opened the back. Reaching inside, she felt around the invisibility cloak that hid her unusual stash. A bag of baby shoes, stolen keys, a dozen French rolls brought to her by the happy-to-please house elves, a silver veil with fitted headband to hide her face….and candles. Seven silver candles, charmed to burn by her command. Charmed by the hand of her father when he had strengthened the chains… charmed to work despite the anti-magic wards on the dungeons… deemed fit for torture, never dreamed for help.

The girl smirked. Foolish Father.

A scream cut through the air, chilling her to the bone. The girl shivered, and leaning against the armor for support, she remembered.

_ The little girl wreathed in the agony she could not scream through her sewed lips. Individual bones of her hands, snapping, cracking, poking through skin, one after another and another… _

She violently shook herself out of the memories. The night was young and the Revel was just beginning. Four lives withered and screamed for Their distraction. They died so that tonight could be truly be the Night of Light.

Before loosing her nerve, the girl approached the corridor's end and tapped the password. Once inside she shedding her dark cloak and donned the veiled crown of burning candles. Lucia had returned to the darkness once again.

No longer a mockery, she hummed the Lucia song as it was meant to be - full of joy, hope, and life. No longer a mockery to her audience, because she was there to set them free. One-by-one she fed and freed the prisoners, muggles, wizards, and witches who had been caught by the Revelers and taken to be destroyed. She fed them by candlelight and set them free with the one-person portkeys. One prisoner after another, until one shoe was left. Hers. 

She gazed at it hesitant to free herself. Her hand hovered over the shoe… closer and closer… when a sneeze caused her to jerk around, trip and fall over the now-empty chains, causing enough motion and commotion to make the dungeon wards scream. Cursing softly she looked into the darkness and saw… Oh. Him. The bait for the Dark Lord's trap. He had heard father gossiping about him.

She looked at the wizard through the silver veil and made her decision. There was no other choice. Crouching in the darkness she held the shoe out to him. "It will take you home," she whispered.

The wizard hung back, refusing to touch it. "But what about you?" he whispered.

The girl wanted to laugh. A brave, stubborn fool to the very end. She glanced over her shoulder. Only a few moments now… They were coming. "I Watched. I Remembered." She reached towards her crown and pulled out the foremost candle. Holding the flame between their eyes she whispered, "Now you carry the torch for me."

The dungeon door slammed open. It was time.

Closing his hand around the burning candle, she dropped the portkey in his lap and watched his anguish filled face fade away. Crowned in candles and gowned in white, Saint Lucia turned the face the Revelers, a beacon of light in the darkness.

**~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~**

He landed in an undignified heap on the Ministry floor, surrounded by a chaos that starkly contrasted with the serene witch he had just left. Ronald Wesley dazedly stared at the flickering candle in his hand. As he watched the flame seemed to heat up and until he realized that the candle was collapsing… melting. The flame sank lower and lower towards his skin, until it touch and was nothing but heat and pain…. and a flaming scar in the middle of his hand.

Clenching his fist over the mark he whispered the vow, "I Watched. I Remember. Always Pansy Parkinson… Always Lady Lucia." 


End file.
